


To Watch.

by orphan_account



Series: It maybe dysfunctional but it works [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dream Baby Killing, M/M, Nightmares, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These nights weren't an often occurrence. They only happened a few times a year. The night of the fire. The anniversary of Laura's death. Tonight was such a night. A night when Derek revisited his past, if not consciously, then sub consciously. </p><p>Where Derek has nightmares and all Stiles and anyone can do is watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Watch.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify- THE VIOLENCE PROBABLY ISN'T THAT BAD AS WELL AS THE KILLING BEING NOT TOO BAD EITHER. IT IS ALL A DREAM.....

Derek arched off the bed, his face etched in a silent scream. He stayed suspended in mid air before crashing back down on the torn up mattress to convulse and finally curl in on himself in the fetal position. Shivers racked his body as his fangs tore open his mouth over and over again, each time having it heal seconds later to be torn open anew. His torso was bloody and ripped, the result of yellowing claws tearing his chest. 

Stiles watched. Watched as his mate ripped himself apart. Watched as his husband suffered through his own personal hell. These nights weren't an often occurrence. They only happened a few times a year. The night of the fire. The anniversary of Laura's death. Tonight was such a night. A night when Derek revisited his past, if not consciously, then sub consciously. 

Stiles always made sure that Rory was exhausted on these nights. He was an intelligent little bugger, as Jackson so fondly put it, and was very in tune to his parents. Sometimes this could get tricky, as both Derek and Stiles had discovered. Somehow they seemed to always end up with their hands full of were-baby at the most inconvenient times. So Stiles generally just let Rory run free over the Hale property with the rest of The Pack's kids. These days were highly treasured by most of the pack as they got to have some down time with their significant others. However one adult had to supervise. They had a rota, it was all fair - but most of them were convinced the cubs some how fiddled with the rota and Scott was getting a load of cub control duty. He was far too soft for his own good.

This night Rory was out like a light as soon as his curly head hit his Peppa Pig pillow (heh. The Irony. Pigs. Wolves. Well Stiles had thought it was funny...) Stiles always kept half of his wandering attention on Rory's bedroom door and half on Derek, the last thing he needed was a traumatized little boy plagued with nightmares of his daddy writhing in pain. 

Derek let out a small groan, his voice filled with indescribable pain. Stiles snapped his head up. His heart flipped. He hated these nights. The nights when all he could do was watch.

* * *

 

Derek was lost. He couldn't see. Hear. Feel. Anything. He was suffocating. Drowning. Burning, but without the satisfaction of pain. Pain was familiar, normal. He could control pain.

Then out of the black walked Mum. Then Dad. Then Laura. Peter. Susan. Rose and Vicky. Tom. Uncle Sam and Aunty Alice. The Pack, before the fire. They all lined up before him but before he could open his mouth he heard a quiet click. Then a burst of colour. The smell of burning reached his nose. And suddenly he was choking again. They were burning. In front of him, because of him. And all he could was watch. Watch as their skin warped like their faces with pain. Watch as the people he loved died a slow and painful death because of him. 

And then his stomach dropped. 

He was standing in Rory's room. The familiar smell of baby, cotton, milk and more importantly DerekStiles, and Rory. He tried to walk over to the bed but found he was stopped by ... he looked down. A ring of Mountain Ash. He looked back up at hearing a noise. There was Stiles, standing behind the bed. And again, he was getting a slight deja vu here, before he could speak Stiles started speaking. 

"You know there never was an us"

He said this with a sick, twisted smile on his perfect face.

"There was never a we"

"Why would I trust you?"

"A monster who could so easily kill his own son"

"Not our son"

"Your son"

"Why would I want a monster that you created?"

"And that's why I don't want you"

"I never have"

"I never will"

"Because you will never be anything more than a monster"

Derek flinched. He thought he could control pain. But that was like a knife, a knife shoved into his gut and twisted.

And then the smell came. That rancid, sickly smell of of hatred. Burning his lungs. His heart. Burning through Stiles, the only one he trusts, will ever trust. 

He feels the flames before he sees them. Curling and caressing around his ankles. Slowly wasting away. And all the while with a sick smile on his face. 

But before he was swallowed by the flames Stiles looked dead in his eyes and uttered the words.

"You, Derek Hale are a monster. And in my eyes you always will be."

All Derek could was stare. His heart dropped. Cracked. Disintegrated. 

* * *

 

Stiles could see it was getting worse. The shivers were more severe. The noises were heart breaking.

And all he could do was watch.

* * *

 

He heard a gurgle. 

He sniffed involuntarily.

Rory. The only one left.

He walked over to the bed, not caring that he seemed to be able to walk through the Mountain Ash. Rory's curly head peeping over the covers. Derek felt calm. He didn't feel pain. 

But instead of reaching out for his son his hand lifted. Carrying a gun. He smelled the wolfsbane. Saw Rory smile and say.

"Daddy what's that?" 

Felt as his fingers itched to pull the trigger. 

Watched. Watched as he killed his son.

* * *

 

Stiles knew when the nightmare had ended when Derek just rolled onto his back and snapped his eyes open breathing heavily. He knew not to ask.

He just waited.

And watched.

**Author's Note:**

> So my first real go at writing death and destruction... How did I do ? Tell me ? ConCrit welcome as always :)
> 
> Call me insensitive but at this point
> 
> "You, Derek Hale are a monster. And in my eyes you always will be."
> 
> All I wanted to say was - AND THEN HE BURST INTO FLAMES. the end.
> 
> Also... TUMBLR IS A THING I DO. http://rightpropergrammer.tumblr.com/


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